Perspectives
by Marohi
Summary: A retired Dragoon reflects on his rather unusual life...
1. Perspectives

_Originally Written as a Message Board Roleplay Story for [The Inn of Bristlebane][1]._   
_*shrugs* Been entertaining myself by writing this. Don't know if it's any good, but here goes... Feel free to say what you really think of it._

Hail and well met; I am Dragoon Tassos N'blm of the famed Indigo Brotherhood.   
Bah! For the love of the Gods, please stop looking at me like that. If I wished to kill you, you would have been dead long before this. Try some of this wine, it's my family's favorite vintage; it's from the best Firiona Vie vineyards.   
I was born...   
Damnit, are you going to just stare at that glass or drink it? Poisoned? Why in the name of your Gods would I poison it? Of all the... There's a fine line between caution and cowardice, and you've just crossed it.   
*The Dragoon grabs your glass and downs the wine in a single gulp.*   
There, now that I have satisfied your paranoia, will you drink your wine like a civilized being?   
Thank you. Now, where was I? Oh yes...   
I was born nearly fourty elven years ago in Neriak to a lady of ill-repute. Not a very glamorous way to begin your life, but it was -and still is- sadly commonplace.   
My mother had once been an attraction in a seedy Freeport bar on the bad side of the city. Apparently, at one time, she befriended a wizard who had been exiled from the realms of the Teir'Dal and treated as if he was a Koada'Dal. He tricked her into laying with him, and then betrayed her to the city guards. When she discovered she was carrying a child, she returned to Neriak and took her...assets to the Maiden's Fancy. Other than that, I never was told much about my beginnings. My mother never said much about him, beyond cursing him and his other pale-skinned brats. I didn't learn much more about my father until I was nearly a decade old.   
Anyway, I grew up not far from the Hall of the Ebon Mask, in the loft of a shop near the Maiden's Fancy. We lived comfortably, for my mother seemed to make a large amount at her work.   
From what I remember about my mother, she was beautiful and quite intelligent. Intelligent enough, that I remember comments about her using Lifetap on any customer who refused to pay what she asked. She also had the habit of bringing home higher paying customers for a "private show" as she called it. However, she was kind to me; pampering me in every way possible.   
I suppose it was pity. I was a Wizard's Get; much too skinny and small for my age, and pathetically weak. I often remembered being called a variety of names by young and old alike. However, so long as my mother was there, I was perfect.   
I chuckle now, but it was a serious matter the day after I turned four when I walked upstairs to hear my mother had brought home yet another man for the "Private Show." These men were not always kind; many seemed like a male lion - more than willing to commit infanticide in order to have the mother all to themselves. That night, I crawled into my hiding place that muted all sound and light later, and slept what would be my last peaceful sleep in several years.   
Ladies of the Night seldom live long lives; many times I'd seen the corpses of ladies in various states of undress carried to a wagon and carted to the Lodge of the Dead. In fact, it became almost routine to see a bouncer or rogue do that. I long hoped that nothing would happen to my safe little world, however my mother was no exception to this macabre rule.   
I woke up the next morning, and went up into my mother's room to tell her that we needed to buy more of some trivial item like I always did in the mornings. Her door was ajar, and the glimpse I got inside was more than enough to make me run downstairs and out into the city to get some help. I finally found some assistance in the form of two elders of The Ebon Mask.   
They went into my house, into my mother's room, and carried my mother's corpse out of the house. They dumped her body, wrapped only in a blanket she had made for me once, into the cart as if it were just so much garbage. I watched numbly as the cart rattled over the cobblestones, until they were out of sight.   
I don't know what God was looking out for me, but I turned on my heel and ran back into the house. I packed what I could, somehow knowing not to pack my toys, but rather clothing, food, and a dagger my mother had always kept hidden in the kitchen. Somehow I knew that my house was no longer mine. Somehow knew I should not be there when the strangers would come.   
Then, barely able to walk for the weight of the backpacks and my heels crying in pain from the new boots my mother had given me for my birthday, I started out into the city.   
I didn't get very far before I was struck by a peculiar odor.   
Even to this day I can't describe it. It smelled like lightning, and rain, and wind when it's cool and fresh. I'd never smelled anything like it in all my life, for no breeze could penetrate the depths of Neriak, and if it were able, it would not have smelled still of lightning and water.   
I followed it.   
I ran, forcing my weak, child's body faster and faster.   
Finally, I stopped at the base of a steep hill leading out of Neriak and into the Nektulos Forest. The smell was still there, but stronger, more compelling.   
Without hesitating, I ran outside after it. What would happen next, would change my life. 

   [1]: http://boards.stratics.com/cgi-bin/forum/everquest/postlist.pl?Cat=2&Board=eqsrvbristle



	2. Perspectives

Ah, tis good to reminisce... Memory is the only true immortality. It's both a blessing and a curse to have good memory.   
Anyway...   
I stepped outside, past guards that didn't seem to notice me. The wind smelled so good, so wonderful, like a mother smells to her child; the rain a gentle caress. I tipped my head back, and breathed it in; relishing the smell that put to shame the city of my birth.   
Then, the guards still not paying me any heed, I started to walk in a direction I somehow knew lead to a path. Even though I had long been warned of the dangers of Nektulos, nothing at all seemed to notice me. For the first time since leaving the city, I honestly felt safe.   
Nearing a huge rotting log near the path, a brown bear stopped and smelled the earth at my feet. For a moment I was scared, but the bear seemed to only smelled the grapes in my belt pouch. As soon as I dropped them on the ground, the bear ceased to notice me too. Let me tell you, it ate them with relish, sticky grape juice dripping from it's muzzle; I was just happy it wasn't me.   
I continued on, ignored by everything from people of my own kind to even the Iron and Stone Guardians that for some odd reason did frighten me as they lumbered down the path in a rolling gait.   
I had just reached a bridge, when something flew past me with the speed of a bird. I watched in awe as a bard shot past, a percussional beat that was really a song in itself echoing in the darkness as Teir'Dal guards gave a slow-footed chase. In his right hand he held a drum with a blue bird made of ocean waves painted on it, while his left held a double-ended stick that he rocked and stroked and spun across the membrane. The magic in his song created sparks of incandescence that shimmered across his sapphire blue armor.   
I watched until he faded into the distance, my mouth agape and wishing he was not being pursued just to listen to that drum some more.   
Shouts behind broke me from my reverie, as a glowing wolf of silver and grayish-blue darted past me in a headlong flight. It stopped just ahead of me, stared at me and howled. Awestruck once more, I stared right back.   
Without warning, the fires of magic surrounded the wolf and the wind began to scream, as if telling me to run as fast as I was able.   
To this day, I'll never forget the look of hatred in the wolf's eyes. It's eyes burned, and it curled its lips back from lethal looking fangs. Even though my own guards could not see me even as one almost ran right into me, it _could_.   
One guard gasped and started to run as something evilly black started to creep up his legs, letting forth the blood; but roots soon entangled his limbs.   
Scared and finally following the wind's orders, I backed up to run. But I too, was soon held fast.   
It grinned cruelly at me and began to cast once more. The rain changed to hail, and the hollow sounds as it hit the ground and the bridge overpowered the winds screaming. Stars and blood exploded before my eyes as a hail-stone the size of my small fist struck my unprotected head. I knew I was as good as dead.   
Out of nowhere, I was tackled to the ground, my slender ankles breaking as the roots holding me broke. My arm, caught under me as I fell under the heavy weight of an adult, snapped also. Ignoring my screams, the adult laid over me; shielding my frail body with his own, his knees forcing my legs up under him. His heavy gauntlet pushing my head under him.   
Today, I know it was this that saved me; but then, I thought I was going to die. Oh the sound the hail made as it struck and dented his armor; the restrained grunts of pain the man made as he curled up around me. It was something I wouldn't wish on any child of any race.   
The hail storm hadn't even ended yet, when I felt the man jerk his arm at the wolf. There was the sound of a close explosion, accompanied by the wolf's yelp of pure, unadulterated agony. Another explosion followed, and another, and yet another... As darkness closed on my vision, I heard the wolf's dying scream.   
*Dragoon N'Blm pauses to take another drought from his glass, but it soused enough that he spills a generous amount down his front*   
I... hmmm... I'm sorry to break the story now, but I really need to find myself a chamber pot or a privy. The cook for my company insists that if you add ginger to a pot of beans, it'll cut gas. All it gives me is ginger snaps. 


	3. Perspectives

"G'morning. I see you're still here. Thought you'd have taken the first fresh horse you came to and left this Inn. I can't say I'm not pleased; it's been quite some time since I was able to speak with another being casually."   
The dragoon sits across the table, fingering the amulet with a violet stone set in the middle of it.   
"Y'know... marvelous invention of the Gods this is," The Dragoon regards the pendant in his fingers. "Without this, and you wouldn't be listening to this foolish, old warrior."   
He sighs and lets it drop back to its resting place on his chest. "I suppose you want the rest of my story, hangover or not."   
"Where did I leave off? Oh, yes. Thank you. I awoke some time later in a grand mansion in the depths of the Neriak's wealthiest district, surrounded by clerics. Sitting at my bedside was the Shadow Knight who'd come to my aid.   
Now, if you asked me to describe my ideal vision of a grandfather, this shadow knight would be it. He was imposing, don't get me wrong, but the deep uncharacteristic worry lines around his eyes and mouth told a different story. His hair was brushed with a dignified -almost regal- shade of silver near the temples, and a short cropped beard framing a mouth held in a firm, straight line. He was still very muscular and large for a Teir`Dal, but his slight beer belly bespoke a man with a taste for food and drink. When he saw me turn my face towards him, he breathed in relief, and a shaky smile pulled the corners of his mouth upward. At that moment, he was and wasn't my vision of a Shadow Knight all at once.   
He rose and spoke in a gentler, more soft-spoken voice than I thought a Shadow Knight should, "Allow me."   
The clerics nodded softly, and backed away. The Shadow Knight cast a spell, a green aura surrounding himself and me. My wounds began to heal, but I could hear the almost inaudible groan of pain from the Knight. Finally it was over, and the man sat down heavily in the chair beside my bed, sweat standing out on his forehead.   
"Father, please be careful... you're not a young man anymore." Chided a lady cleric whose belly was ripe with child. She knelt slowly and held the Knight's wrist, her slim, delicate fingers resting on the veins standing out from his skin. A little girl my age with striking dark eyes, dressed in robes any Teir'Dal would recognize as being an acolyte of the Temple, offered the man a cup.   
"Aye Noma, but I feel badly for hurting the boy." The Knight answered, accepting the cup which he drank from gratefully. "Thank ye, Sweet Heart."   
I knitted my eyebrows together in puzzlement as the Knight kissed the little girl's cheek and lifted her up onto his lap.   
The lady cleric pushed to her feet, and leaned over to brush my hair away from my face, a gentle smile lighting her high-born features.   
"Welcome to the T'lenn House, Child." The mother said softly, kissing my temple as she used her magic to make me sleep.   
In a way, it was if my near death at the magics of that cruel wolf was in actuality my rebirth. They kept me at the house, saying I was on my own as soon as I was old enough to survive. However, well over thirty years passed and I still inhabit the room I awoke in."   
The Dark Elf chuckles and leans back with a happy smile on his face.   
"Aye, growing up in the T'lenn house was like a dream. I was adopted only a year after my mother's death by the youngest son of General Calan T'lenn and raised as if I had been a member of the house from the moment of my birth. And as far as anyone outside the house was concerned, I was.   
I spent halcyon days playing in the courtyard with my cousins, and peaceful nights listening to tales from my adoptive parents and elder brother. Under my father's and brother's tutelage and loving support, I grew from being a skinny whelp to being an able-bodied, barnstormer of a boy in scarcely a year.   
The Dragoon smiles at a maid as she sets some coffee in front of him. He tastes it, and then with an approving nod, takes a bigger sip. He turns back to you and asks pleasantly, "Have you had any breakfast yet? I'm famished!" 


End file.
